“So where’s your car today?” My lunch companion asks.
I sigh. “My mom needed it to take my 91-year-old grandmother to the doctor.”
Slightly quizzical look. “And your mom’s car?”
“My dad needed it to take the visiting Austrians on a road trip.”
“Oh.”
“My grandmother has hemorrhoids,” I explain. “She’s sure they’re killing her.”
Laughter.
“I think deep down my she's really just pissed off about the Austrians,” I say, deadpan. "My grandmother's certain that my dad is neglecting her because he’s busy driving them around the country rather than staying home to attend to her hemorrhoids.”
Doubled-over uncontrollable laughter
“It’s better than last year and the foot fungus. She was feeling particularly abandoned and attention-starved then because my parents were in Europe, so I was the one who had to take the hospital when she was convinced that athlete’s foot was about to do her in. She’s relentless.”
He falls out of his chair. Literally.
There’s one of them in every family, I guess. Unfortunately, in my family there seem to be more than I can count…
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